


Centuries

by aslightstep



Series: Drabblethon: Thunderiron Edition [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bastardization of Norse Mythology, Lost Love, M/M, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Temporary Character Death, depictions of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9536159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslightstep/pseuds/aslightstep
Summary: Some legends are told/Some turn to dust or to gold/But you will remember me/Remember me for centuriesTony has War in his eyes, but Thor is not afraid. It is a sight he remembers well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Drabblethon series. Song is Centuries by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Also, extreme bastardization of Norse mythology ahead.

Thor crept along the halls of his home, down past the guards to where the infirmary was. Father had forbidden him from visiting ‘too soon,’ but Father was only sore at Tyr for not celebrating the great conquering of Fenrir, the mighty wolf that was prophesied to eat Odin whole some day, choosing to stay in the infirmary and nurse his injury alone.

Thor had celebrated merrily at his brother and mother’s side; his father was safe and Tyr, in his bravery, had proven his worth to his parents to stand by Thor’s side. But as the night grew long and Tyr continued to stay away - from a feast that was being held in his honor! The hero Tyr, savior of the All-Father and Asgard! - his heart grew heavy. Tyr was a blacksmith, and a master of weapons and war. The loss of his hand must have grieved him greatly.

But the infirmary, when he finally arrived, was empty.

“Are you looking for Lord Tyr?” One of the healers asked, a knowing smile on her face. Thor felt his cheeks heat at what kind of knowing that might be. He had very little shame left within him, but he and Tyr were not… _discreet_ in their affections. It seemed like every servant or lord in the palace had happened upon them at least twice. “He left an hour ago. He didn’t say where, but a bright prince like yourself surely has an idea.”

Thor was already leaving before she had spoken, a hopeful smile on his face.

Tyr’s smithy was a place of wonder, swords and shield and armor hung on the walls and strewn about the tables surrounding the great forge in the center. Enchanted suits of mail worked busily at patching holes and sharpening blades, lit up from within by their inscribed runes. The great magic fire of Jalmari crackled merrily in the middle of the forge, belying the true power that Thor had been blessed enough to see only once or twice.

Sitting on the lip of the forge was Tyr, tinkering with a gold and red gauntlet, holding it awkwardly between his bicep and forearm. The stump where his right hand had been before it was lost to Fenrir’s bite was already healed over.

“You’ve enchanted helpers just for this sort of work,” Thor said, smiling hesitantly as he crossed the room. Tyr looked up, saw him, and smiled back, just as tremulous.

“This is the kind of work I need to do on my own,” he said softly. Thor stopped in front of his lover, looking at the runes he had already carved into the metal.

“Shall I leave you, then?” he asked softly, and when Tyr’s eyes met him they shined in firelight. It took Thor’s breath away, even as his heart broke.

Tyr was standing, crushing the gauntlet between them as he flung his arms around Thor. “Never,” he said into the crook of his neck, and Thor returned the embrace, feeling the minute trembling in that deceptively slight frame. For all that Tyr was the bastion of the anger and fire of war, he also embodied the empathy and compassion that caused men both to fight and to drop to their knees to stem the wounds of an enemy.

“Then I will stay. Always,” Thor promised.

Tyr side, pressed a kiss into the skin over his pulse, and pulled away. “Hold this. I need to make one last adjustment.” Thor took the offered gauntlet and held it as indicated.

“Tyr-” he tried to speak, though he had no idea what he would say.

“I don’t regret it,” Tyr cut in, not looking up. “I agreed to chain Fenrir, I agreed to give up my hand. It was the right thing to do, Thor.” He finished the rune and looked up. “I would do it again.”

“It will not be forgotten,” Thor said solemnly, leaning down to press his lips hard against his lover’s forehead. “Your sacrifice will be sung through the ages.”

Tyr snorted, pushing Thor back playfully. Thor was cheered to see his good humor returning. “It’s just a hand. I’ve already got a replacement.” He wiggled the gauntlet back and forth, laughing as Thor’s jaw dropped. “What, did you think I would leave it up to Loki or someone else? Did you see what he did to Sif’s _hair_?”

“Believe me, he has paid for that a thousand times over,” Thor chuckled. “How shall I help?”

“Hold me?” Tyr asked, turning towards the flames. “Jalmari always takes care of me, but the pain will be great, I can’t deny it.”

Thor held Tyr, close enough for comfort but loose enough to move, as the smaller man stuck his hands into the flame just as they burst to life. He did not scream, but it was a close thing.

Afterwards they rested against the flagons of stone that made the forge, watching Tyr wriggle his new fingers. “How does it feel?” Thor whispered.

“Marvelous,” Tyr breathed. “Strong.” He turned to Thor, his eyes taking on a speculative, possessive gleam that Thor knew and cherished well. “Would you like to see for yourself?”

Tyr’s hands made quick work of his armor as Thor’s head fell back. Centuries of this, he thought, and he smiled.

* * *

Tyr was dressed in his red and gold armor, as he always was these days, when he came to Thor’s tent that night.

“The battle comes at dawn,” he said unnecessarily, shedding plate until he was only gauntlet and bare skin, sliding in beside Thor and letting himself be held. 

“I’ll be by your side,” Thor swore, running his hands through curling dark hair.

“It’s foolishness,” Tyr whispered. “I am War. I know where I am not to be. We should compromise with the Vanir. They are clever and fierce, as we are. We should be joining together, not fighting.”

“They threaten everything we hold dear,” Thor responded. “Our home, our way of life.”

“They are not Jotunns, intent on dominion,” Tyr snapped, then immediately subsided. “I just. I dread the dawn. I wish to stay in this moment with you forever.” The red and gold gauntlet intertwined with Thor’s hand, and they both stared at the contrast until Tyr brought them both up and kissed the seam where they met, before rolling over onto Thor. “I am War,” he repeated. “My blood needs to sing.”

Thor heard his unvoiced demand and tugged him up, closer, ran lines of fire down his sides. “Then I will play its tune.” 

The night was not long enough.

Thor lost sight of Tyr in the midst of battle. When the tide stemmed all around him, when warriors dropped their weapons one by one and turned towards the west, his heart dropped low.

He found Tyr, bleeding and broken, the red and gold cracked around him, exposing the skin he had worshipped just hours ago. Thor ran the few short meters left, collapsing beside him. Sif and the Warriors Three lingered at the edges of his vision. Somewhere someone was calling for a way to be made for the prince, meaning Loki was coming, but all Thor could see was the trickle of blood running down his love’s face.

“Thor,” Tyr managed on a cough, red misting up into the air with his breath. He raised his hand, palming Thor’s cheek. “I am sorry.”

“You are fine,” Thor insisted, holding that shaking hand to him. “Do not talk. You are War. You do not end.”

“Of all the terrible things to tell a dying man,” Tyr said, trying to smile. His mouth was bloody; Thor kissed it anyway. “I made you promise to stand beside me…I am sorry I cannot do the same.”

“Don’t say that,” Thor cried, burying his head in Tyr’s broken chest. “Do not apologize. All the time I ever had with you - I was unworthy.”

“You _were_ worthy. I love you. I - always will.” Tyr’s eyes grew distant, and Thor rocked him gently, like he was simply going to sleep, like they were back in bed, in love, forever. “Remember me, Thor. Remember me. One more promise.”

“I will, I will,” Thor said fervently. In the distance, Loki echoed his promise, then Sif, then the Warriors, then a thousand soldiers, enemy and ally alike. Tyr smiled even as his breath stuttered to a stop, his eyes losing focus. He died in Thor’s arms, and Thor did not know when he stopped screaming.

* * *

“Peace,” Thor said when the war council next convened. Tyr’s body was resting in its boat, ready to be put to flame and sea. “We ask for peace.”

Odin looked at him, and where Thor expected surprise, he only saw sober understanding.

* * *

Centuries passed, and Thor grew unruly. He was cast out, down to the world of Midgard, deemed unworthy. He found himself missing Tyr fiercely, Tyr who would have been by his side, Tyr who would have followed him.

Tyr, who here was legend. It cheered Thor, even as it saddened him.

“Tyr kinda fades out after this,” Darcy said after noting Thor’s interest in his story and reading a 'Wikipedia' article on the war with the Vanir. “What happened to him?”

Thor stared at the (incredibly inaccurate) portrait of a War God. His armor was plain and black, but the artist had managed to capture at least one thing in the proud tilt of that defiant chin. “He died,” he said quietly. It had never stopped hurting.

“Oh, man,” Darcy said, then peered at Thor’s face, apparently seeing the truth of it if the devastated expression on her face meant anything. “Oh, _man_.”

“Indeed,” Thor replied, and that was the end of that.

Until he saw a red and gold armor flying on the picture box. “Whoa!” Jane screeched when he stood and crossed to it, holding it so tightly it groaned. “That’s just Iron Man, okay? Tony Stark. He’s kind of a superhero now.”

“That armor.” He watched this Iron Man, this Tony, weave back and forth through similar looking suits, blasting them apart. The compact and ease of movement, the cleverness of his tactics, the red and gold. Remember me, Tyr had pleaded. Thor had kept that promise. This could not be anyone else. “I must go to him.”

“Um,” Jane said.

The next day the Destroyer attacked, Thor was sent home, his brother was lost, and the Bifrost destroyed. Tyr was lost to him again.

* * *

The first time he saw Iron Man fight in person, it was against himself.

“I do not wish to harm you, Tyr,” he pleaded, blocking up a blow.

“It’s Tony, big guy. Mr. Stark if you’re nasty,” the man told him while blasting him back. “And if you don’t want to fight, maybe don’t _steal my stuff!”_

Loki grinned at him the whole way back in the helicopter while Tony Stark regarded him with curious but distant eyes. Eyes that Thor had loved, once.

Thor remembered. Tyr had not.

* * *

He was saddened to see how closed off this Tony was, how he had lost his purpose as War since the beginning. War was not for profit, and it was not to be taken lightly. A sword is truly a shield until you swing it at the wrong person. Tyr had taught him that. Tony had seemingly learned this lesson, but however it had happened had carved out great parts of his heart.

Or maybe, he said, watching Tony’s expression fall minutely as the Captain berated him, he had just hidden them away.

“I believe that is enough,” he broke in, and both men turned to him. There was a moment of naked gratefulness and hope in Tony’s eyes before it disappeared. “Past mistakes do not define us, though they should never be forgotten. Leave them behind, for all our sakes.”

Of course, that did not stop Loki’s plan of destruction. He saw Tony look back over his shoulder at him as he and the Captain ran for the suit, and then he was gone.

* * *

“I feel the oddest compulsion to say ‘this is just like old times,’” Iron Man said to him as the Avengers circled up, waiting for orders. “You sure you’re a god, Point Break? You didn’t oh, I don’t know, gain some freak powers after an epic beach party down in Cancun in the early 90s?”

Thor did not know what half of those words meant, but he laughed anyway. Iron Man’s head tilted at the sound and his faceplate slid up. “Seriously, Thor. This deja vu is off the charts.”

“Perhaps it is the battle,” he replied. “Doesn’t it make your blood sing?”

“Singing blood?” Tony smiled, his eyes going a little distant. “That would play some pretty wild tricks on the mind, huh?”

“Verily,” Thor agreed softly, and Tony peered closely at him, looking confused before Captain Rogers began calling out orders and the faceplate slid down. 

Thor lost track of him, and began to panic. The stab wound in his side from Loki’s dagger pained him greatly; it must have been poisoned. He stumbled in his movements and suddenly Iron Man was at his back.

They fought perfectly, executing moves and combinations Thor had not used in centuries. Tyr no longer fought with a sword, but he had long used the type of science that Tony used in his gauntlets.

“Keep your head up, big guy,” Tony told him as they cleared out the area. “You’re not allowed to leave me. You promised.”

The suit froze for a second, the helmet tipping in Thor’s direction as his heart seized in his chest. “Wait-” Tony said, even as Thor reached forward with a whispered “Tyr” on his lips, before more aliens came.

Tony blasted up to the sky and was lost again, and the next time Thor saw him, he was disappearing into the wormhole.

* * *

The Captain let Thor drag Tony’s body to him, even though both he and the Hulk must have been confused. Thor ripped off the faceplate, fighting not to scream as the same still face he remembered from centuries ago was revealed.

“You are fine,” Thor insisted, grabbing Tony’s right gauntlet and holding it to his face. “You are War. You do not end.” He closed his eyes.

“Of all the terrible things to tell a dead man,” a raspy voice croaked out, and the Captain gasped out loud. Thor opened his eyes to find Tony staring back at him, at the gauntlet intertwined with Thor’s own hand. As if in a daze, he brought their hands to his lips and kissed the seam where they met.

“Tyr,” Thor whispered. 

“Thor,” Tony - Tyr - replied, a weak smile beginning to form on his face. “You remembered.”

* * *

The team took the revelation well in stride: by that meaning the Captain threw his hands up in the air, said “Sure, fine, Tony can be a god, too” and the archer had remarked “It is just impossible for you not to be famous!” and the Black Widow had added that being the embodiment of War explained a lot and no, Stark, that wasn’t an insult, and the doctor had simply asked if he could test Tony’s blood when they got back to a working lab.

”You know,” Tony said as the team sat around the table, eating the oddly-named food. He was remembering more every second, but remained ‘Tony’ for now and might always. Thor would call him whatever name he wished; he was merely happy to have him in his lap right now, feeding bits of meat to him. “That kinda explains how I keep living through all the absurd shit I do.”

“Going headfirst through that window,” Steven said, nodding.

“Metal poisoning,” the archer added. “Saw Nat’s notes on that. You should totally be dead, man.”

“Afghanistan,” Tony listed, grimacing. “Electrocution, lots of blunt force trauma, like three overdoses…”

“Also how you’ve looked thirty three for fifteen years,” the Lady Natasha remarked, and Tony pointed at her, apparently adding it to some invisible tally. 

Thor’s chest rumbled in laughter, and Tony shivered a little, basking in the vibrations, which only made Thor’s laughter grow. That was something old between them, too. It was a joy to see.

He was eager, however, to begin finding things new.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at my tumblaaa [here](http://aslightstep.tumblr.com)


End file.
